Mirror, Mirror
by DevilDears
Summary: Bucky is living in a shared apartment with Steve at Avengers tower. It’s not easy for him to come to terms with his sexuality and his life-long crush on his best friend but when Steve comes home one night after a breakup they finally hook up. Now everything could work out between them except Bucky can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wrong with Steve... TW: RAPE/ VIOLENCE
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_5 hours ago._

The mirror...

Steve couldn't help but feel that his reflection was _watching_ him.

He stepped closer, staring back into his own eyes and— _There_ _it was!_

His mouth was moving on its own volition.

_"Hail Hydra."_

**Chapter 1**

When Bucky came out of the shower dressed in nothing but a fluffy white Stark towel with the Avengers logo on it, he hadn't expected Steve to be there. Or anywhere near the tower for that matter.

It was late and they had gotten into a pretty intense fight a few hours earlier that ended with Steve storming out of their shared apartment like the stuck up _jackass _he was. Bucky had expected him to spend the night at Sam's house sulking.

Objectively, he knew that he was in the wrong but that didn't help Bucky get over his own ego and admit it. _No fucking way._

He entered the dimly lit kitchen where Steve was going through the drawers, frantically looking for something. Considering the urgency with which he was rattling the cabinets he'd probably lost his marbles, too. Good luck with _that_ search.

"Oh, you're here. What a surprise." It came out just as malicious as he'd hoped.

Steve flinched and turned around. His eyes were wide, watching Bucky like a deer in the headlights. It was the same guilty expression he used to have back in the day when Mrs Rogers (may God rest her soul) caught him with his filthy hands in the cookie jar.

Seeing Steve panic at the sight of him like that shouldn't make Bucky feel mollified but it did. He was still _mad_, damn it.

"Is it? A surprise, I mean?" Steve laughed nervously, rubbing his neck. The unconscious gesture was one of his oldest tells.

"Kinda. Yeah. What are you looking for?"

"Nothing. Just... I had a surprise for you and I can't find it now."

All the anger drained out of Bucky at once. Steve had gotten him a present, trying to be nice and he'd ruined everything by being a complete asshole because of his petty jealousy.

Bucky's confused feelings for his best friend (ok, more like a well-nurtured life-long crush) were not Steve's problem and he had no right to put that on him.

At first, Bucky had been worried that it was a byproduct of his recovery or an echo of some kind of forgotten trauma. Feeling so safe here at Avengers tower and in Steve's apartment could have resulted in his stupid brain making shit up to fit the narrative.

Perhaps spending movie nights with his head rested on Steve's shoulder or in his lap had crossed a few wires, too. It was truly marvelous to be so close to his best friend in the dark while the screen flickered, to watch the soft light illuminate his features and feel the warmth of the body next to him…

Maybe he was just _touch starved_.

Steve liked to play with his hair, too, when they were alone and he had a girlfriend after all.

Well, until now at least.

He never touched Bucky like that with the rest of the Avengers present and used to spend his time with Sharon away from the tower but that was just because Steve was a _privat_ person. He didn't like to show public affection towards anyone.

It didn't have to mean anything. Bucky was overthinking things.

_Maybe_ he wasn't queer at all.

What he needed was a second opinion but it took him a long time to find the courage to actually do something about that. Confronting his sexuality after all this time with the risk of discovering some sort of hidden sexual trauma that he might have repressed during his time in Hydra captivity on top (because not remembering didn't_ prove shit yet_ and Bucky felt sick just considering the possibility) was a big step. He was too afraid to share the secret with anyone at first.

To look at men the same way he was looking at Steve, or even think about it, had been a dangerous gamble in the past. Bucky remembered that clearly, but a small irrational part of him still refused to accept that they had made it to a time where their love wouldn't be against the law anymore for nothing.

Technically, Bucky wasn't admitting to anything illegal by sharing his thoughts. Even gay marriage was widely accepted now but that didn't mean everyone was in favor of the whole thing. Fortunately for him, when he tentatively told his therapist about his feelings she turned out to be very supportive and they rediscovered the specific memories together.

There was no doubt about it. He was a total goner for Steve Rogers, always had been, and 70 years of brainwashing and torture hadn't changed a thing.

Only by sheer luck, Steve had no clue about any of it yet and Bucky was gonna make sure to keep it that way. Anything else would mean getting his stupid heart broken in a million little pieces and on top of that, it would make living together awkward as hell.

"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I had no idea you broke up with Sharon. I just— I didn't know you were seeing her today and we used to tell each other everything. I get that we're not the same people anymore but I don't like keeping secrets, ok?"

He gave Steve a pleading look."Please? Can we just pretend I didn't say anything?"

"You got it."

Bucky sighed relieved. Sometimes, things _could_ be easy between them.

"Can I help you look for it at least?"

Steve laughed. "You could but if you found it first, I'd have to kill you."

"Haha. Very funny, pal."

Steve smiled back but it looked a little weary, not quite reaching his eyes.

Bucky walked over to him, leveling his gaze and squeezing his shoulders in support. "I know I'm a dick sometimes but I want to be there for you when you need me, alright?"

Steve nodded, then his face took on the strangest expression.

His gaze wandered slowly from Bucky's left hand to his upper arm and on to his face, lingering on his lips, then to his hair that was still a little wet and dripping from the shower. Bucky was _stunned_.

Steve went on to stare at his neck and chest intently, tracking the droplets of water run further down his body with laser focus. Bucky became acutely aware of his state of undress. He was _butt-naked_ under the towel...

"Uhm... Stevie?"His face heat up with the question.

"Yes? _Bucky_?" Steve pronounced his name like he was mocking him.

"What are you doing?" Bucky's voice was faint and definitely a few octaves too high but Steve didn't seem to notice.

He was still busy ogling his chest and stomach like he was seeing Bucky topless for the first time.

"What does it look like?" Steve asked without looking up.

"You're staring."

"Yes. It would seem that way to you."

Bucky swallowed nervously. "So, you're not?"

"Oh, I'm definitely staring. I just haven't decided what I'm gonna do about it yet."

Steve's gaze dropped even lower. His eyes locked onto Bucky's intimate area. He felt the intensity of it like a physical caress.

Ok… Now Steve was absolutely checking him out. There was no other explanation for this. Bucky begged his blood to stop rushing South before this got really awkward.

"Uh huh..."

Before he had the chance to say anything else unintelligible to ruin the moment, Steve grabbed his head and crashed their lips together.

Tasting Steve was electric, like lightning in a bottle. Bucky was hard in a second.

Steve kissed him open mouthed and without reservation, like a drowning man welcoming the rush of air in his lungs. Bucky went a little weak at the knees. Steve walked him backwards thrustfully until his back bumped into the counter.

Bucky still held onto his best friend's shirt, trying not to stumble and fall when Steve stuck a hand under his towel and _grabbed his dick_ with no preamble whatsoever.

"Fuck!" Bucky cursed and moaned loudly. He couldn't think. There was something he needed to say first but he couldn't get the words out. "Shit, Stevie, maybe we should slow down here..."

Steve just stroked him harder and bit his shoulder. _Jesus!_

"Oh God! Ok, I guess, we can just— talk later..."

Steve spun him around and pushed him against the counter roughly. A few supplies rattled in the kitchen drawers.

Bucky's towel fell to ground when he caught his own weight with the metal arm, leaving him completly exposed all of a sudden. The adrenaline in his blood spiked and made his pulse race, almost like his body was preparing for a fight but Steve only pressed himself closer to his naked back and hummed.

Bucky's dick twitched with interest.

"I want you," Steve whispered into his ear and bit his earlobe.

Bucky's brain tried to catch up with the images in his head but apparently, the blood was needed elsewhere. He'd only been dreaming about this since puberty, jerking off to the idea of dropping to his knees or spreading his legs for Steve silently while his best friend slept in the same room. He'd never said anything. People had called Steve a queer because of his height and his sickly body but it was Bucky lying in bed next to him who wanted…

"We don't have supplies. We need... Shit, I've never done this before."

Steve put a hand in his hair, manhandling him and wordlessly bending him over the counter. Bucky could feel Steve's hard dick poke through his jeans. He moaned again and spread his legs wider.

There was olive oil on the stove.Steve let go of his hair to pour the liquid over his other hand, coating his fingers with it and stuck two of them in Bucky's ass with no warning.

"Ugh..." It hurt a bit. He tried to breathe and relax against the intrusion.

Steve started to pump his fingers in and out in rapid succession with little time for adjustment. It was a bizarre mix of pain and pleasure.

"Oh fuck! Stevie… Slow down, would ya? I told you, I'm not used to this."

He grimaced. Steve's finger nails caught on the delicate skin when he pulled them out before slamming back in again but Bucky was too turned on to really protest the sting at this point. Heat pooled down low in his belly. When Steve hit his prostate with pointed jabs over and over, Bucky had to bite down hard on his lower lip to stay quiet. Precome was dripping onto the countertop. They were _not_ stopping.

"Oh, God…"

"That's right," Steve chuckled lowly. "You can take it."

He seemed to decide Bucky was prepped enough when a third finger went in smoothly. The, he pulled them out at once, wiped them on Bucky's quivering thigh, and unzipped his pants.

Bucky swallowed hard. Funny enough, he'd pegged Steve for a _gentle lover._ He briefly wondered if this was some sort of payback for their fight earlier, chuckling to himself a little hysterically until Steve put more olive oil on his dick, coating his entire length with a squelching sound, and lined himself up.

It didn't hurt any more than the fingers had at first but it was a stretch and Bucky grabbed the countertop with his hands for support.

Steve grunted in his ear when he was fully seated inside. "God, you're so tight."

Bucky shuddered. He also hadn't expected Steve to talk dirty but apparently, the man was full of surprises.

The sudden shame he felt about what Steve had said registered as a sinking feeling low in his gut, adding to his arousal. A welcome little thrill.

Steve started fucking him in earnest. The pace he set was brutal. His balls were slapping against Bucky with every thrust but it felt so good that he went a little out of his mind with it.

Bucky was so sensitive and eager that it didn't take long before he was all wound up.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come."

Steve put a hand in his hair again and pulled roughly, keeping his spine bent backwards a little, thrusting even deeper inside. "No you're not. Not before I say so."

The new angle made Bucky feel every thrust of his powerful body.

"I can't tell if you're serious right now or—"

"That's an order."

Steve slapped his ass cheek once, like he wanted to affirm his authority. That was _way hotter_ than it should be. Bucky felt himself blush bright red from top to bottom. His dick throbbed at the thought of submitting himself like that.

As Steve held him down and made him spread his legs wider, Bucky imagined what he must look like in this moment, watching his body from above as he got down and dirty, willingly giving up all control to this man...

Steve kept right on fucking him while he tried to stall his orgasm. He was getting close now but if there was one thing Bucky Barnes could succeed at, it was following orders. When he was right on the edge and started pleading for permission in earnest, Steve jerked him again.

"Now."

Steve pulled on his dick with an iron grip a few times and Bucky came all over the counter.

The blinding sensation of pure white-hot bliss was so intense that Bucky actually blacked out for a few seconds. When he came to, Steve had pulled out already and there was a steady trickle of warm jizz running down his thighs. A strange feeling.

Bucky stayed braced on the counter for several minutes, trying to catch his breath. His legs felt unsteady and he was still shivering from the adrenaline like he was going into a mild shock.

He heard Steve tug himself back in his pants behind him, pulling the zipper up.

When he spoke, his voice was a little shaky. "What in the seven hells has gotten into you? I mean— I'm not complaining but..."

"You wanted this, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but—"

"So, we're good?"

Bucky raised his eyebrows and turned around to face him. Steve wore on odd, closed-off expression.

"Steve, you just screwed the bejesus out of me. We're more than good. I'm just... Worried."

Bucky winched when he tried to take a step towards him. His ass hurt more than he cared to admit and the cooling wetness running down his legs with every movement humiliated him further. Definitely _not_ how he wanted to carry himself in a serious conversation.

He picked up the towel from the floor and secured it around his waist again to regain some dignity.

"I just wanna know if this is a one time thing for you, or a rebound, or whatever. I mean, you and Sharon just broke up, right?"

"Look, can we talk about this tomorrow?" Steve crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "It was a long day, longer than you could possibly imagine and I just wanna lay down for a bit."

He really did look exhausted now that they were done. Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the lingering awkwardness.

"Alright. So, do you— do we both sleep in my room or..?"

Steve smiled that weird fake smile at him again. "Whatever you decide. I'll follow your lead on this one."

"Fine. Ok so, my bedroom, I guess?"

Steve nodded his assent.

He followed Bucky to the second master bedroom of their cozy Stark-sponsored super soldier flat with dragging feet. The minute his head touched the pillow, he was out like a light.

Bucky was not so lucky. He lay awake for hours trying to get comfortable, wondering what this crazy hook up meant for their relationship and hoping for the best.

When he woke up the next morning, Steve was nowhere to be found.


	2. Chapter 2

When Bucky entered the common area of Avengers tower two hours after taking the longest shower of his entire _fucked-up_ life to scrub away the evidence of last night, Sam was making fruit cocktails at the bar, singing softly to Marvin Gaye like nothing was amiss.

The oncoming headache Bucky felt was only partially Sam's fault, but his joyful out-of-tune performance didn't help the spinning head one bit. Bucky was determined to give Sam the cold shoulder for his pains and successfully refused to acknowledge his presence. A win-win situation for the both of them really.

He sat down slowly at the far end of the counter, leaning heavily on his forearms to take some of his weight, careful not move his ass in that particular fashion that still made him flinch in pain.

Maybe he should have used a less irritating soap to clean up? There had to be a list of things you could and couldn't put in your ass somewhere on the internet. Bucky hadn't dared to look it up.

_Maybe_ Steve could have been a little more careful with him, too, but after all, they were both super soldiers. It was hard to control your powers and let go like that. Bucky's ass would heal in no time and the loose, wet feeling (like he was still leaking when he clenched his muscles there) was just in his head anyways.

_No one_ could tell. No one could tell because no one knew_ that he was fucking gay._

Just to make sure, Bucky was paying extra attention to his posture. He needed to avoid awkward questions, like _why the Winter Soldier was walking funny,_ at all costs.

The slight gait in his step wasn't hard to conceal and in a perverse way, Bucky was almost proud of it. The barely-there micro hair fissures he had felt all around and under the skin when he tossed and turned sleeplessly last night were like battle scars. He wasn't some delicate dame and they'd both been into it, so...

_Bullshit._ At least, Steve could have stayed and talked to Bucky about things instead of running away again and making him feel like something cheap afterwards—

Sam was shaking the cocktail mixer in front of his face as if he had a seizure.

"You want this one? It's strawberry."

He put a plastic flamingo into the slim rose-colored glass, poured the liquid into it, and set it onto the counter in front of Bucky.

"Can you make one that's less... Pink, maybe?"

"Thought you'd like the pink one," Sam responded and winked at him with a smug smile. He could never quite manage to blink with one eye instead of two. It was equal parts unnerving and adorable.

Bucky glowered. "What's that supposed to mean, Wilson? Why would I want the pink one?"

"Fits your girly hair and shit."

_Girly... Queer... _Bucky barely suppressed a guilty flinch, tensing up and grinding his teeth in a way that kept the strained, twitching muscles in his shoulders and jaw unnoticeable.

When his right hand went to his neck self-consciously, scratching and twisting the strands there, his mind promptly flashed back to Steve pulling his hair and fucking him over the counter relentlessly.

_...That's right._

_You can take it._

Sam flicked a few strands out of Bucky's face.

"You alright?"

Bucky's perverted mind jolted back to the present like someone had flipped a switch.

"Yeah. Yeah... I was thinking the bird's more your style."

It wasn't his best comeback so far but Sam still honored it with a full body laugh. Bucky relaxed again, relieved about the easy diversion.

They went on to throw jabs at each other for a while, chatting leisurely about everything and nothing in particular. _Status quo restored. _Bucky gave his best to play it cool. His mission was a covert interrogation, aka. coming up with a clever way to bring up Steve's whereabouts without raising suspicion.

Unfortunately, there seemed to be a bit of a jinx on it and the desired topic never came up.

Bucky finally got tired of steering the conversation in Steve's general direction after 30 _endless_ minutes of fighting over whose team was gonna win the playoffs and some wild speculation whether or not Marvin Gaye could have been a star player if God had willed it so. Sam was in love with that dude.

"So... Did you notice anything weird about Steve lately?"

Sam put down his drink.

_Subtle,_ Barnes. _Real subtle..._

"Weird how?"

_Weird as in suddenly gay and really into rough sex?_ Sam was Steve's best friend in the whole wide world (except for Bucky of course) but he was pretty sure that there were some things you better kept to yourself.

_Don't be obvious._

"I don't know. He seems different."

"Did you guys have a fight or something?"

_Not exactly... _Bucky tried hard not to blush at the memories that were replaying in his mind's eye like some r-rated blue movie and opted for a half truth.

"Yeah, I said some things about Sharon and he stormed out of the apartment last night."

"Oh man, and he didn't come back all night?"

Lying to Sam's stupidly trustful face and obtaining his genuine compassion by trickery felt like a capital sin. That shit weighed on a guy's conscience.

_Stick to the story. _

"No, he came back, alright? But he wasn't at the apartment when I woke up."

"Maybe he just needed some me-time? Let him have this. You two are way too codependent as it is."

The truth was hard to dismiss. Sam had them down to a T. His advise, as well-intentioned as it was, hurt like rubbing salt in an open wound.

Bucky pinched his nose. "Yeah. Maybe..."

* * *

Steve didn't show and Bucky slowly but surely went stir-crazy, just a little more with every passing minute. It was almost half past 4 in the afternoon when Natasha joined him in the depressing half-light of the living room where Bucky was sulking.

She flipped over the back of the couch and landed with her head propped comfortably in his lap, smiling like the cat that got the cream.

Apparently she'd meant to '_do this all day'_, or so she told him. Judging by her troubled expression, it didn't have the desired effect. Bucky's reaction seemed to lack the proper enthusiasm for her performance.

"Is this a bad day?" she asked him in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, twisting stands of red hair around her little finger.

"I can Netflix and chill with Clint instead if you like."

"We never 'Netflix and chill' Nat. It's just Netflix."

She gave him a look. "Is it about that? You're frustrated we're not doing the chill part?"

He snorted.

Natasha fluttered her eyelashes at him in a mocking attempt at seduction. "Wanna be my chill buddy, Barnes?"

He laughed, for real this time. "No, no, it's not about that. I'd be honored. But no thanks."

"Be careful, I'm not used to being rejected. Female spiders are dangerous creatures."

She bent and wiggled her index fingers in front of her face to imitate mouth parts, playfully threatening Bucky with a spider bite.

"You'll get over it. I'm sure."

When he didn't engage any further, she pinched him on the arm half-heartedly. "You know what you smell like?"

Bucky's eyes went wide in panic. _How did she figure out...? _

That spider thing was no joke. He felt trapped, like she had caught him in her net of lies and was going to make him spill all his dirty secrets...

She took a whiff of him and Bucky's pulse hammered away in his throat. Just for a second, he was actually convinced that Natasha could _smell jizz_ even after it was long gone - but that was insane. He'd _showered_. Three times! With that fancy Jungle-soap she got him for Christmas!

Bucky told his ridiculously increased heart rate to see some goddamn sense and _slow. the fuck. down. _

He cleared his throat to deflect.

"Like what?"

"I was gonna say _like hubris_ but you don't look so good. I don't wanna kick a man in the balls when he's down. Just stomp lightly if he's into that."

"People actually like to get stomped on?"

"It's a dominance thing. Don't judge."

"Huh..."

Bucky didn't judge. At all. In fact, his mind wandered to that dangerous place again where he locked up all the depraved things he wanted Steve to do to him, so he could examine them more closely, turning them over in his head, playing with the images for a bit before he threw away the key forever.

He imagined what it would feel like to lay on the floor, unmoving like an object. A doormat for Steve to clean his boots on when he got home...

_What was wrong with him?_

Chastising shame replaced the exquisite shiver of arousal traveling up and down his spine. Bucky ducked his head to hide an over-excited blush that would reveal his depravity, fidgeting with the metal arm.

"To each their own, I guess."

Nat grinned at him knowingly. "New delights. I'll drink to that. Do we have any leftovers from Sam's breakfast slash cocktail party?"

"Nah, I think we're all out."

"Pity." She stood up gracefully, the fluid motion attesting to the immense strenght and refined body control of a ballerina, when the door zinged.

The elevator opened to reveal Steve Rogers with a _woman_ on his arm.

It was Sharon.

_Of course_ it was fucking Sharon.

Who else would it be but _Sharon fucking Carter_ waltzing into their living room unannounced like the plague.

Bucky tried to quell his rising anger and kept on sitting in his favorite spot on their centrally-placed sofa because_ he lived here_ and_ she didn't. _

Bucky watched them closely. As they stepped out of the elevator together, she laughed at something Steve must have said and dug him with an elbow. In return, he poked her in the side, teasing the ticklish area with his finger.

The resounding laughter of them both brought back Bucky's headache with full force. He felt an almost uncontrollable rage, like a confined rat raving under his rib cage, trying to gnaw its way out.

What brought him back from the brink and cooled his temper abruptly, was Nat. She looked at them even more bewildered than Bucky did, with a hint of unexpected betrayal, and it completely threw him off.

She _liked_ Sharon. They were shooting range buddies. She would tear them a new one if someone so much as _looked_ at a lady wrong.

"Hi. Hi you," Nat said and waved at Sharon with a fake cheerfulness that rivaled the creepy clown in IT. "We didn't expect company today."

"Oh." Sharon rubbed the back of her neck and gave her best apologetic smile. "I just wanted to walk Steve back to the tower. You know how it is."

Nat kept right on smiling at her like a psychopath while shaking her head vehemently. "No, no, I don't know how it is. You should tell me. Someplace else. Rogers..."

Steve gave no indication that he had any idea what this was about either, frowning at her strange behavior. "...Yes?"

Bucky thought his hesitant Captain America on duty tone missed a _ma'am_ there.

Natasha, all Black Widow now, gave him a cold courteous nod and put her arm around Sharon like a vice.

The poor woman had practically no time to come up with anything but an overwhelmed "uhh" before she was manhandled into the elevator again.

Natasha pressed the button that would take them up to her own apartment with more force than strictly necessary.

"We have some lady business to attend to. Get comfortable, boys. We'll be back."

In combination with that frightening smile it sounded more like a threat than a reassurance.

"Have fun?" Bucky said a moment too late to be a proper farewell. The sliding door had already closed.

They were alone again.

Bucky decided to focus his undivided attention back on Steve who was eyeing-up the lounge like he'd never seen it in broad daylight before and was getting ready to propose to the chaise lounge.

"What. the. hell?" Bucky said.

Steve turned to him with wide eyes, obviously startled but didn't answer.

Bucky noticed that he kept standing in the middle of the room like a foreign object, holding himself awkwardly, like he couldn't decide where to sit his ass down all of a sudden but that was an issue for another day.

He braced himself. "So... Are you two back together or something?"

"No?" Steve's answer sounded uncertain, cautious, like he wasn't sure if it was more likely to help him save his own skin or lead to an impromptu beheading.

Bucky fumed. Either Steve was being evasive because it wasn't a sure thing and they hadn't talked about it enough to make it official yet, or simply because he wasn't sure how to break it to Bucky without hurting his feelings.

_Fair chance._ His fucking feelings were _already_ hurt. Steve had stomped on them and there wasn't an ounce of sex appeal to it.

"What do you mean, no?"

"Like I said. Why are you so mad?"

Bucky wrought his hands in his lap like he was gonna throttle Steve with them. The metal plates shifted audibly.

"Take a _wild_ guess."

"Clearly, it's because I came here with Sharon."

"You think?"

"Am I not allowed to have friends now?"

Bucky could feel the blood pulsing in a protruding vein on his forehead. It became more and more difficult to breath.

"She's your ex, isn't she?"

"So?"

"So, it's different."

"If you say so," Steve replied incredulously, a single eyebrow raised at Bucky in defiance.

"Damn right, I say so. I mean... Is it serious with her? Or just _wham, bam, thank you ma'am?_ What?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Oh, is it now?"

Bucky was still glaring daggers when Steve sighed and shook his head at him pitifully. Like Bucky was a huge personal disappointment to him somehow instead of _the other way around. _

He turned to leave for the elevator, going straight for the call button like he just couldn't be bothered.

Bucky was out of his seat in a heartbeat, seizing Steve's arm before he could reach the door.

"Tell me, Steve, are you fucking all your friends now or is it just me and her?"

_It happened in a blink. _

Without warning, Steve twisted his creaking metal arm around painfully. He shoved Bucky into the wall at full force, securing the position by kicking his legs apart to put a solid foot in the middle and fixing his own stance at terrifying lightning speed.

The pure shock kept Bucky from struggling against the hold and lash out automatically while he stood a chance - like he ought to.

Instead, he stood stock-still with one side of his face pressed tightly against the wall, his breathing labored as if he had tried to run a few dozen miles in under a minute.

_"What did you say?"_ Steve hissed into his ear.

An icy shiver ran down Bucky's spine. He couldn't find his voice, just silently exerted himself by breathing in and out too fast, hyperventilating, like an idiot.

Steve bend the arm behind his back further upwards, applying more pressure to let him feel the strain.

"Answer me."

"Steve? Let me go. Let me—"

Bucky began to struggle. He twisted and pulled, flailing about helplessly with his human arm, but to no avail. The man behind him didn't show any sign of a reaction to his efforts whatsoever.

"Steve... Stop it! Just... _Stop!_" Bucky's voice sounded embarrassingly small and afraid to his own ears. He wished he could put some force behind it, some anger to the words but there was nothing. Just this reflex to stay still and freeze all movement and thought outside of _please_ and_ thank you sir_ in his animal brain.

"I'm pretty sure you don't get to give me orders."

"I wasn't trying to. I was just..."

He tried to lower his arm again, using the other one for leverage, pushing away from the wall but there was no give.

The man behind him chuckled lowly. _A mean little sound._

"Steve... This isn't funny."

"You sure you want me to let go?" Steve pressed himself to his back, letting him feel the _considerable erection_ in his pants, breathing in Bucky's scent like a blood hound. Like he could detect the smell of fear and...

Bucky felt his own treacherous dick swell. It wasn't sexual. _It wasn't._ Not really. A side effect of whatever doctile mindset Hydra must have forced on him to cope with shit like this.

Bucky flushed hot with shame but he wasn't ready to give in and roll over just yet. If Steve could just...

_Please... Just let me go._

— No.

He wouldn't beg.

Swollowing down the initial panic that was about to choke the breath from his lungs, Bucky tried to remind himself that this was still Steve. _His_ Steve. Steve Rogers, the scrawny little punk in a big clumsy body who'd rather die than hurt his friend for real.

He _loved_ this man.

_'There's no reason to be afraid', _Bucky told himself._ 'He probably thinks you like this. You're only freaking yourself out here.' _

He stopped struggling and went purposefully limp, leaning heavily against the wall. Then he focused on taking deep, even breaths until he was calm enough to try a different approach, feeling more confident already.

"Yes, please. I get it Stevie, ok? I was out of line. Message received. Clear as day. You can let me go now."

Bucky was almost proud of how calm and reasonable the request sounded, despite that dreadful feeling clawing at his stomach. Like they were discussing who would get to eat the curly fry at dinner or some stupid shit like that.

"I'm not fucking her but if I was... Well, I don't need the attitude from you. Understood?" Steve said emphatically.

His voice had a commanding quality to it, like this was WWII and he expected Bucky to _fall in line_. Apparently, the whole dominance thing had gone to his head.

"Yeah. Ok, yeah. Got it. I got it, Steve."

Steve pressed himself closer once more, then he let go of Bucky so suddenly and unexpectedly that he almost fell over.

Bucky swayed to the side but Steve's big hands, placed left and right on his aching shoulders, steadied him just in time.

"Lets forget about this, alright? We shouldn't fight", Steve told Bucky with an encouraging smile. He didn't _seem_ apologetic. Just slightly thrown off kilter.

When he glanced down Bucky's body, Steve stopped to appreciate his flagging erection like an achievement. Then, seemingly unbothered by his best friend's apathetic state, he kissed him square on the lips.

Bucky didn't move an inch. Didn't reprocreate. Didn't do anything.

"Don't be jealous. Just tell her to leave. I'm going out again."

Steve patted him on the back reassuringly, like he was praising an obedient dog.

Bucky nodded on autopilot.

"Will you be alright?" Steve asked him.

_No?_ Bucky had the wacky urge to laugh at the question like a mad person, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop if he did. He stifled the impulse just in time to nod his assent again.

"Perfect. Be good. Don't wait up."

When Steve turned to go, Bucky walked over to the sofa in some kind of trance. His ears didn't seem to pick up any sound. They were stuffed and ringing softly, like he was diving deep under water. His steps on the marble floor were just as slow and inaudible as they were on the carpet.

When he finally reached his destination, Bucky let himself sink heavy into the oversized cushions, shutting his eyes to the world.

The muted zinging sound, he noticed with some difficulty, had told him that Steve was gone a long time ago.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Bucky had calmed down enough to process the whole thing, Steve holding him to the wall for a bit out of self-defense seemed like a stupid thing to get worked up about.

He'd panicked. Steve had simply reacted to getting his arm grabbed after Bucky had run his big mouth about a woman, which was after all a completely reasonable thing to shut down.

He'd provoked him.

And yet... Bucky was still feeling ill when he touched the aching shoulder attached to the metal arm and thought about his own shameful reaction to the hold.

He was becoming more and more certain that Hydra had done some seriously fucked up shit to his body. Things that he couldn't remember and probably didn't want to. It wasn't like he could have told them no.

The colorful images in his head of dirty cells, and the sour smell of sweaty, naked bodies and blood, and the slapping sounds associated with the possibility of his own violation— It all made Bucky sick to his stomach. Unfortunately, punishment and obedience training of _that kind_ weren't the only reasonable explanations for what had happend and he was going to have to face it at some point.

Bucky was sure that normal people didn't get hard from being manhandled like that. He'd admit that he'd entertained some pretty rough, even violent sexual fantasies in the past (swapping the faceless men in his imagination for Steve in his lowest moments) because it helped with the guilt and the shame of wanting it too much, but they always had some kind of weapon on him.

In the safety of his own mind, Bucky imagined that his assailants would just _take_ what they wanted from him, holding a sharp knife to his throat or the cold barrel of a gun to his temple, to keep him compliant as they shoved into him. There was some room for variation but he always imagined a harsh voice ordering him to get himself off in time with their thrusts, to come before they did or not at all.

Bucky didn't resist the order, didn't struggle because it was safer, or they had tied him up with no other way to get out of his bonds than to please his captors. He could enjoy it freely then. It absolved him of his own sins and ok, some things he'd imagined were kind of similar to what Steve had done to him for real but there was a difference. Thinking about it too much made Bucky want to vomit.

It was supposed to feel different when the threat was _real_. He was an assassin. He knew that. Natasha would have gotten out of that hold in no time. She'd break a guy's fingers for getting too familiar (or go for their entire face depending on their level of entitlement) and be done with it. Bucky hadn't even tried to hurt Steve for real. He'd barely even considered it.

Partly, he couldn't _ever_ fight Steve again because of the damage he'd done on the helicarrier that day in DC. It still haunted his nightmares, the possibility of how things could have turned out if he hadn't stopped hitting him, if Steve hadn't fallen into the water, if he _had_ and Bucky had let him drown... He couldn't live with that but that wasn't all there was to it. Something had prevented him from fighting back, from struggling too hard that wasn't regret and he'd come very close to actually begging Steve for mercy.

Not that he had any real dignity left. He wasn't hung up on that, he just couldn't imagine anyone else would be stupid enough to get a fear-boner like that. It had been an almost Pavlovian response. That type of thing couldn't be safe in the field. Maybe he shouldn't have been cleared to go on missions yet. It was too soon. He couldn't be trusted if he popped a boner for the enemy in combat, that much was certain. He could get them all killed this way.

In times like these, Bucky wished he was still in therapy. He could always tell Aileen about the fucked up shit in his head and she never judged him for it. At least not to his face. She genuinely seemed to believe that his fantasies and the things he wanted were normal - even though he'd been Hydra's lapdog for so long, and that it was still ok to feel like this after he'd seen and done God knows what.

In theory, talking to her was still an option. She'd told him she'd always be there for a quick consult if he needed her, even after hours, but calling now out of the blue because of a minor incident like that would be ridiculous and entail a bunch of akward questions.

What would he even say?

"Hey, doc. It's me, Bucky. Sorry to bother you but Steve fucked me in the ass after all. No, don't get excited in my account yet. It was just a rebound. We fought over it and now my dick is all confused. What do you mean 'this isn't an emergency'? Yes. I'll hold."

Right... He had to find an alternative.

—

"What's up, tin man?"

Tony Stark strode past him with Sam Wilson in tow, heading straight for the coffee maker. Bucky nodded in his general direction vaguely.

They usually just ignored each other after the whole dreadful _dead parents affair._ It was an awkwardly guarded but peaceful coexistence now.

Tony loaded up on his expensive Wakandan raw-beans coffee that he drank in unhealthy, possibly organ failure inducing quantities. There was no way T'challa was putting actual vibranium in there but the fancy name guaranteed that it sold out every time before it even hit the stores. Just like that apple brand that was so popular with the kids. Modern people were desperate.

Stark left as fast as he'd come without further acknowledgement of his presence, while Sam hovered near Bucky like a nervous mother hen looking after her ducklings.

He instantly regretted every single decision he'd ever made.

"Nat told me what happened."

"Of course she did." Bucky silently cursed himself for not calling Aileen instead. His nosy friends couldn't keep their damn mouths shut if he payed them double her rate.

Running to his favorite Russian murder ballerina for support and dumping his fight with Steve on her hadn't done him much good anyways. She'd listened, promised it would work itself out, and then left for some urgent meeting without even telling him what Sharon had said about the supposed breakup in the first place. Things were akward enough and that woman was a filthy liar who couldn't be trusted. Thank god he'd left out the awkward boner part of the story...

"Nat is a tattletale and don't get me started on you. You're a helicopter mom, you know that?"

Sam ignored the remark and gave him the soulful pity-eyes. "He really twist your arm?"

"Jesus Christ, Nat." Bucky rolled his eyes. "She oversold it. 'Twisted my arm'... That's ridiculous. You're both ridiculous. I hardly even felt that. Did she tell you I was the one who started it? Yeah... Didn't think so. You're making a mountain out of a molehill."

Sam shook his head at him with a frown, like Bucky was underestimating the gravity of the situation.

_'Time for the lecture, counselor',_ he thought. '_Here we go again.'_

"No. No, he shouldn't have done that. No matter what you said or did. Doesn't matter who started it."

"Oh, please... Are you gonna lock us in a room together until we've talked about our feelings?" Bucky asked, voice laced with sarcasm.

Sam sighed. "I don't know. Was he always such a dick or did we fuck him up in the future?"

"Hell if I know."

"Sorry about this, man. I don't know what's gotten into him lately."

"No, come on. It's nobody's fault. We all have bad days. You don't have to get involved."

Sam shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I know but— I mean, I could have warned you Sharon was coming. I saw them in the lobby together earlier but then again, he seemed so sure that this wasn't what he wanted anymore, and you and her…"

"I don't wanna hear it. Please, Sam. Just stop," Bucky said sharply, suddenly feeling more frustrated and worn-out than he had in a long time.

"Steve can invite whoever he wants. If that's Sharon, then so be it. He's a grown-ass man. He doesn't need my permission."

_'See?'_ Bucky thought to himself._ 'I learned my lesson after all.'_

Several akward minutes ticked by while Sam kept making serious eyes at him, like he still had something important to add. Bucky scowled and tried to convey his reluctance to talk by a bunch of scary facial expressions. Everything short of screaming _"What, Wilson? Fucking WHAT?"_ was fair game.

Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick. Sam visibly relaxed after a while, clearly having decided that this wasn't the hill he wanted to die on and kept his mouth shut.

Bucky blew out an exasperated breath and turned to leave. When he was almost out of reach, Sam called out to him.

"You know, it's none of my business what happened between the two of you but he doesn't get to treat you like this. You should tell him that. Talk about your issues for once."

"Nothing happened," Bucky muttered. "Nothing at all."

—

Steve nursed his drink at the bar when Natasha Romanov slid into the seat right next to him. He didn't flinch because he was too well trained for that, but it was unsettling that he hadn't noticed her approach at all. Now was not the time to let his guard down.

"So, is this a 1940s thing?" She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.

"Is what a 1940s thing?"

"You. Him. The gay panic? Don't play dumb, Rogers."

Steve gave her a brief once over. Romanov's red hair was tied up into a loose bun that weirdly contrasted her pink sweatpants and washed-out t-shirt. It had a huge cat picture imprinted over her chest and a slogan that said "MY CAT MY BUSINESS". He didn't understand the reference.

Steve tried hard not to stare at the imminent shape of her breasts under the fabric because looking too closely might damage his cover. Rogers was a _nice guy _and while the Widoe clearly felt safe here without a bra on (right at home with the other freaks) the odd look she was going for was put together for his benefit. It was meant to put him at ease by making her seem like the most unthreatening person Steve had ever met. It was a carefully crafted illusion and he wasn't going to fall for it.

"I'm not having a 'gay panic'."

"Oh, but it must be that cuz otherwise you've lost your damn mind."

Steve looked at her incredulously. This had to be about Barnes again. The Avengers were so far into eachother's personal business, he was surprised they got any actual work done.

"Do I need to get your head checked? You're pining for him for months, you're breaking up with your girlfriend on the off-chance that he's gonna like you back like it's middle school all over again, and when he finally does you... What? Pretend you're not serious about the whole thing?"

Steve huffed. "He told you about that?"

"He didn't have to. I can put two and two together."

"Sure seems like it. I guess you know me too well, Natasha."

Romanov gave him a devious smile. "Maybe I do. Someone ought to."

She touched his arm affectionately like she would if they were close confidants. Interesting. "You're breaking his heart, you know that? He's miserable. Stop with the cold shoulder before it's too late. The whole 'fuck buddies with your ex' thing is really not your style."

Now he would have known Rogers as a total bore even without the prior intel. Unfortunately, indulging the Black Widow and making Barnes happy seemed to be necessary for the mission now and it was going to be tiring work.

Steve almost regretted fucking him that first night at the apartment. Almost. It had been a good lay all things considered and it would be a delicious form of torture to tell "Stevie" all about it later. How shocked Barnes had looked after getting screwed within an inch of his miserable life, how desperate he'd gotten once his arm was locked in place and his face was mashed against the wall...

"I know. I know but— What do you suggest?"

"Aww..." She crooned. "That's sweet. You really want my help, Captain Fossil? Do I get to play matchmaker?"

"Yeah, why not? You're clearly better at these things than I am."

The Widow snatched a bacon slice from his plate, looking pleased with herself.

"Well, I'm not exactly an expert on romance but I guess you should think about it like you would with a girl. Just because the dangly parts are a bit different from what you're used to doesn't mean he hates grand gestures, old man. Make him feel special. Light some candles. That type of thing."

"Light some candles. Ok, I can work with that."

"And most important: Don't blow this by losing your temper again." Her eyes took on a harder expression. "He's my friend, too. If you keep hurting him, I might have to hurt you back one day and I've got a mean right hook. You'd never see it coming."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"This is your one chance at happiness, Steve. You both deserve it. I talked to Sharon already. You're single now. For good. No take-backsies. Just give it your best shot."

Steve smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

He never missed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Red Union Bank. Underground vault. Washington, D.C., 4:30 p.m. _

Steve Rogers turned his head and spit out the bitter stream of blood in his mouth, leaving flecks of red all over the concrete floor.

"You're gonna have to try harder than that!" Rumlow yelled, kicking him in the gut with the tip of his boot. The chains rattled as Steve's sagging body swayed to the side. His bare feet, grating over the floor behind him, were unable to support his weight.

"I don't know what the fuck you're looking for—" Steve panted, "but if I did... Lets just say I would _die_ before giving you anything."

"That can be arranged," Rumlow sneered and delivered a nasty punch to his kidney, really laying his weight into the blow this time.

Steve groaned in agony but other than that, he didn't provide Rumlow with the desired result. He barely even reacted to pain anymore. They'd done this dance every single day since Steve let himself get abducted like an amateur.

His doppelganger, Rumlow, and a whole bunch of evil Nazi dicks had taken him completely by surprise. Leaving no time to warn the others, they had subdued Steve faster than he'd thought possible, injecting him with some kind of super drug specifically engineered to knock a supersoldier flat on his ass.

When Steve woke up topside, slightly groggy and disoriented from the meds, he quickly realized that shit was about to hit the fan. It only took one good look at his company.

By now, his whole body was black and blue with bruises but Hydra's enhanced interrogation tactics hadn't softened him up one bit.

To be fair, it seemed as if they were holding back. There was no pattern to the torture, no finesse, not even any urgency, only the same old question they wanted him to answer.

Steve was fairly certain that he wouldn't answer it even under the most extreme duress. Not because of some heroic ideation - because he simply didn't _know_.

"This is starting to bore me."

Alexander Pierce (the _other_ Pierce, as Steve had secretly dubbed him) sat on a chair opposed to him, watching the torture scenes unfold from a distance like an interesting football match. By Bucky's account, he knew that Pierce was a man who enjoyed inflicting a bit of pain himself but perhaps he didn't want to ruin his expensive suit. Steve would make sure to spit on him the first chance he got.

"Time to change it up. Bring in the asset."

Steve, suddenly pulled out of his little revenge fantasy, tensed visibly and instantly reprimanded himself for it. He couldn't play into their hands now. Not when Bucky's life was at stake.

Pierce straightened and looked past him. With his back strategically to towards the door, Steve could only listen when Bucky, their Bucky, the _other_ Bucky strode into the room with heavy steps.

"Commander?" the familiar voice asked timidly, sounding hoarse with disuse, causing Steve's heart to clench more painfully in response than any torture could have done.

Steve trembled in his bonds. He wrapped his fists around the chains and pulled, trying to free himself with new vigor. It was either that, or crying for forgiveness at the asset's feet.

"Ah, yes. The asset. Come forward so the prisoner can take a good look at you."

The asset - Bucky - obeyed without question, commanded by the flick of his handler's wrist.

_Oh, Buck... What have they done to you?_

The man walked around Steve's twisting form in a half circle until he came to a stop in front of him, completely unmoving.

Steve stopped to struggle at once. He told himself not to look too closely at his best friend's alter ego but curiosity won out in the end.

The black tactical gear didn't hide the asset's emaciated frame, he looked exactly like his own Bucky had that day in DC when the mask came off. Blank stare and everything, looking through him like a void. The fresh smudge of eyeliner around his vacant eyes only highlighted the wrongness of his appearance. Steve shivered.

_This is not him,_ he tried to assure himself. _Bucky is safe at home. They can't touch him._

"Whatever you're planning, it won't work. I swear, I don't know anything about a—"

"The asset can withstand a great amount of pain. Did you know that?" Pierce cut him off, his polite smile the ugly mask of a monster who knew neither love nor mercy.

Rumlow and his men stepped closer, as if on cue, forming a circle around them. The asset's gaze was still fixed on Steve's collar without meeting his eyes but there was a flicker of real fear reflected in his expression now.

Maybe, Steve was just projecting the newfound terror that grabbed his heart onto the Winter Soldier. "I know. I know that... Please, you don't have to do this. I really don't know anything about this. There's no need to hurt him," he desperately tried to reason, dreading the knowledge that it wouldn't be enough.

The asset blinked. He looked up, studying Steve's familiar face with a puzzled expression. There was no recognition whatsoever, just... Genuine confusion mixed with fear.

"Tell us what we want to know or he'll pay for your silence," Pierce said.

"I already told you, I don't know—"

Rumlow didn't wait for Steve to finish. Instead, he leaped forward and struck the asset - _Bucky, his name is Bucky_ \- across the head with a stun batton.

"NO!!!"

Bucky went down hard. Blood spurted out of a laceration on the back of his head and yet, instead of defending himself against the assault of stun batons which the Strike team rained down on him, he curled into a fetal position and stayed down, crying out only when they aimed to hit his scarred shoulder with electricity.

Steve began to beg in earnest.

If he was hoping for Runlow's help, or Pierce's, he didn't know. All his efforts were in vain.

—

_Avengers tower. Midtown Manhatten, New York. Same day. 4:30 p.m. _

"Where is she going?"

Bucky nodded towards Natasha, who suspiciously trailed after Steve with just the right distance to seem incidental. Well, to someone less versed in espionage at least.

She'd certainly managed to be far less conspicuous than Bucky who had sat on the sofa halfway across from them, watching Steve's back longly from afar during the entire conversation.

It was a nice backside. Couldn't blame a guy for feeling a little sentimental.

"Following our great leader, I guess," Clint replied with a shrug.

Bucky eyes narrowed as he looked at the archer in disbelief. "What? Are you serious? She's _tailing_ him?"

Clint just shrugged in reply.

"Why?" Bucky asked bewildered. "What for?"

Clint gave him a sheepish smile and scratched his neck. "You know Natasha. Once a spy always a spy. She..."

He cleared his throat and leaned closer towards Bucky, whispering conspiratorially. "Ok, so, I'm not supposed to tell you this but she said she had a hunch."

"A hunch," Bucky parroted dumbly, determined to keeping his voice at a normal level because this wasn't middle school. "About Steve?"

Clint cringed. "I know how it sounds but she— she said he lied to her."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "People tend to do that sometimes, pal. It's not a crime."

"No, it's not that he lied to her necessarily, it's... This is gonna sound so paranoid—"

Bucky snorted. "It does. The FBI's got nothing on you. Believe me. Only difference is they're not investigating their own people," he remarked with a disapproving shake of the head. "You two have seen way too much shit."

"—Maybe, but she said it was a good lie."

"Huh..." Bucky frowned. During the war there had been a grand total of 1 covert operations during which Steve had tried working as an undercover agent, and Bucky still wanted to die from second hand embarrassment every time he thought back on it.

Blond hair and being build like every Nazi's wet dream alone couldn't save your ass if awkward stammering (and having no acting talent to cover for it whatsoever) gave you away the second you had to bend the truth a little.

Out of the two of them, Bucky had always been the untruthful one, learning the art of selling lies pretty early on. There was an unspoken rule to being in love with your best friend, when said friend packed the same equipment as you and all you wanted was to stop kissing dames and get on your knees for him: _You fake it till you make it. _

"Huh... Like believably good, could've fooled Nicolas J. Fury himself? That kinda lie?"

"Exactly."

"But Steve is a horrible liar."

"He is, isn't he? I mean... Usually."

Bucky squinted. "Huh."

"I don't know, man." Clint pinched his nose. "It's what she said."

"Ok... I'm listening. You got my full attention now, Barton. Lets hear it. What did he lie about?"

"Nothing big. Just... She asked him where he was going this morning and he said he wanted to check out some Shawarma place and—"

"He hates Shwarma."

"Nat said so, too, but he gave her a whole story about some big plan to celebrate Christmas there with the rest of the team and whatnot, and she said: I quote 'that bastard almost had me convinced it was my idea in the first place'."

"Weird."

"Yeah. Apparently, he told her it's exactly what we all needed without once mentioning that it made him throw up his guts— Oh." He paused at Bucky's unbelieving expression.

"That was after the Citauri invasion," Clint explained. "Early team bonding. Way before your time. Like, I remember him saying 'I just want to die again' while he wretched in that public bathroom for half an hour. It wasn't pretty."

"So... What does she think his motives are? Maybe he's just private about stuff."

_Maybe he's meeting Sharon again..._

"I honestly don't know. It's probably nothing. Perhaps Nat's just bored and needs a project."

"Weird hobby though."

"Seen weirder."

Bucky huffed and put his feet up on the couch. He didn't feel like dealing with this strange development any more than he felt like kissing Stark on the mouth.

"Right. So... You wanna keep talking about Nat's urgent need to see a shrink?" he asked casually, while digging out the remote behind the cushions. "_Or_ do you wanna watch a spy movie with me, and not choke yourself on popcorn this time? I got some of the really bad ones."

Clint gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and then pitched his voice high, fanning himself theatrically like the protagonist of some Jane Austen novel. "Oh, Mr. Barnes... I thought you'd never ask."

—

Watching not one but _two_ cheesy spy movies with Clint that didn't even remotely touch on the reality of actual intelligence and espionage put Bucky in an exceptionally good mood for the rest of the day. He'd missed laughing with his friends more than he had realized. The drama free company of the archer provided a comfort completely unlike the _mess_ that his thing with Steve had become in the past week.

Which, on second thought, was exactly what Bucky needed more of right now. Maybe he should take some time off, and...

Entering the dimly lit apartment he shared with his best friend, Bucky immediately did a double take to make sure he was still in the right place and hadn't gotten lost somewhere along the way daydreaming.

The sign at the door said 'Rogers Barnes' no matter how many times he read it over and over.

According to his medical records, his eyesight and reading comprehension still scored a perfect 100% (no signs of his hypothetically old age the doctors liked to talk about so much) but this just couldn't be right.

There were candles _everywhere_. On the floor, on the drawers, on the tv stand... Painting the entire flat in a soft orange light.

"What the hell..?"

"Oh, you're home," Steve called out happily and came strolling into the living room.

Bucky's jaw dropped at the sight of him. Steve had put on the world's tightest white T-shirt that clung to his pecs obscenity, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, only to top that with a pair of red dress pants that hugged his ass in the most lewd fashion. His hair was slightly mussed up with gel and he looked, for a lack of better words... Incredible.

Mouthwatering...

_Like he was on a date. _

The realization sobered Bucky at once. His heart clenched painfully, as he swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. Were you expecting Sharon? Or— someone else? I mean—It's none of my business, clearly, but—"

Steve reached out, gently laying a hand on top of Bucky's cold metal arm and made him lose all track of thought. The limb came strangely alive under his palm. The plates hissed and shifted almost unnoticeably.

"No. It's for you, silly. I did all of this for you."

Bucky's stomach did a little flip. It was so unexpected. He'd almost given up all hope and resigned himself to never getting what he wanted from Steve...

"Are you sure?" he swallowed hard, bracing for the painful rejection that would come any second now. It had to be a cruel joke. It had to be.

"Yeah. Of course I'm sure. What kinda question is that? Come, sit..." Steve pointed at the table dressed for two which he had dragged into the middle of the room. It was decorated with candles and God almighty, _rose petals. _

"Steve, this is completely unnecessary. You didn't have to do this on my account..."

"Of course I did. I owe you an apology. Please." Steve pulled out his seat for him and Bucky, no longer able to form a straight sentence, sat down heavily.

"...OK."

Steve took the seat opposite of him and held up his hand. "Hear me out. I realize I went a little overboard with the manhandling yesterday, and... I know I scared you, and I hurt you. Nat told me about it. Bucky, believe me, I had no intention of—"

Bucky stopped him with the wave of his hand, suddenly embarrassed.

"It's fine. Steve, it was nothing. You just... You freaked me out a little. After Hydra I... I don't react to that sort of thing the same way I would have when we were kids. And besides, that wasn't just rough housing to me."

"I know, I know Bucky, and I'm sorry I treated you like that. It's just— I was so angry and I grabbed you too hard and then you went all— still. I misjudged the situation. It was just... With the way you reacted, I thought you liked what I was doing."

_With an erection you mean..._

Bucky felt himself color with shame, wishing he could sink right through the floor and make the Earth swallow him whole.

"It's not your fault. Really, I wasn't... 'Communicating' the way I should have been."

It was as his therapist always told him. _Communication is the key to a healthy relationship. _

Steve smiled at him. "I'm glad we got that sorted out. I hate fighting with you."

"Yeah, me too. So..." Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly. "About the other night—"

"What night?"

"You know the one where we—" Bucky stumbled over the right words like a schoolboy and rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was amazing how Steve and him had known each other all their lives and still were in no way capable of talking about their damned feelings. It was probably just the era they were born in where men were taught to be strong and keep everything in, but sometimes it felt like they were a particularly stunted pair.

"Oh, that right!" Steve exclaimed. There was a teasing tone to his voice now. "I wasn't sure what you were referring to."

"Yeah, jackass, that night. So... Did you mean it?"

"Did I mean what?"

Bucky felt his own face burn. "When we... When we had sex, ok? Intercourse. Fornicated. Had relations. Whatever you wanna call it. What was that to you?"

"What do you want it to be?"

"That's not fair. I asked you first."

"You asked me first? What is this, kindergarden?" Steve retorted.

"Steve, I'm serious: Why? Why did you decide after all this time that I was finally... _good enough_ for you? I mean, did you just _know _about me? All this time?"

"What about you?"

"That I... _Damn you_. That I like you. You know... Like _that._"

Of course 'like' didn't even remotely cover it but Bucky didn't want to scare Steve away with the big L-word just yet. He was already transparent enough, and currently talking himself into an early grave if Steve didn't feel the same.

"There I said it. Are you happy now?"

"You're into me?"

"Shit. Yeah, I guess, but we don't have to make a big deal out of it. You really didn't know?"

Steve shook his head but otherwise didn't react to the big confession. It was nerve wrecking.

When Bucky went on, his voice threatened to fail him. "I just need to know: Was it a conquest to you? A pity fuck? A punishment? What? Whatever it was: You win, you had me. Alright? As far as I'm concerned nothing else has to change. I'm still here. I'm always gonna be there for you. Whether you want me or not. And if you don't, if you can't stand to—"

He took a deep breath. "You know, I've always felt this way. About men... about _you_, but I can try and be normal. If you want to go back to being friends and pretend nothing ever happened that's fine, I'll do it, but I think you owe me a straight answer. Was that all you wanted from me, or is there something else?"

Steve's eyes considered the crumbled napkin in his metal hand thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the human catastrophe with an existential crisis right in front of him.

"Bucky, in case you haven't noticed, we're on a date. Like right now."

"I—" Bucky blinked like an owl.

"Is that something you'd be interested in?" Steve asked him casually, sounding utterly relaxed.

"Yes? I mean, yes! Oh my God. Yes! Of course, I'm interested. Very interested. Just so you know... You should give a guy a little warning. I'm about to have a heart attack and I'm completely underdressed for the occasion."

"Don't worry. We can change that later," Steve said with a conspiratory wink.

Bucky was floating on cloud nine. "So, just to be clear, you don't want to go back to being friends?"

Steve laughed. "No, Bucky. We're not gonna do that."

The butterflies in Bucky's stomach went batshit. He coughed to clear his choked up throat, and tried for nonchalance, although the million watt smile on his face would surely betray him. "Is that right?"

Steve hummed agreeably.

"Not that I'm one to look a gift horse in the mouth but— Did Nat threaten you earlier or something?"

"Even if she did, I'm not afraid of her. And no, pretty sure it was all me."

"You're such a liar. She terrifies you." Bucky laughed.

Steve blessedly ignored the remark and instead of commenting on Bucky's conspiracy theories any further, got up to serve the food.

When Bucky wanted to help and make himself useful, Steve gently bullied him back into his chair with a firm hand on his shoulders.

"No, you sit. Let me handle the rest."

That certainly was a first. Bucky barely tasted the delicious meatballs which were served to him with self-made pasta and wine.

Steve's heated gaze distracted him all through the main course.


	5. Chapter 5

After dinner, Steve dragged him into the bathroom to see their candle-decorated shower.

The vast space was warm and inviting, smelling faintly of roses and a hint of sandalwood. The surreal romantic atmosphere created by the low light made Steve look like a Greek marble statue, ready to be worshipped in some ancient temple.

Bucky felt the urge to fall to his knees and pray in a certain way that wasn't taught at Sunday school... But, first things first, he surged forward to kiss his man, trapping Steve between his body and the shower wall. He made an effort to express the happiness and gratitude he felt with the soft touch of his lips against his lover's mouth and neck.

"Ok, I wanna try something," Bucky whispered hotly in Steve's ear. "You gonna' let me?"

When Steve nodded, giving him the desired go-ahead, Bucky dropped to his knees.

"I can't promise this is gonna be good, but..." His voice failed him, nerves and arousal blending into one, an almost torturous sensation. "I wanna suck you. I really do. OK? I'm just not sure how. I never got this far with anyone before... If you wanna give me directions, go ahead. Tell me what you like."

Bucky opened Steve's fly with uncharacteristically shaky hands, hoping Steve was too turned on at this point to care about his clumsiness. He tried to maintain eye contact while he pulled out his lover's cock.

Bucky knew from experience that holding someone's gaze during a blow job could really enhance the experience but it seemed to require a lot of focus, too. On top of that, it was weird not to be on the receiving end of things, but Bucky wasn't one to shy away from a challenge.

And so, he started out slowly, by kissing the entire length up and down from root to tip. Steve's cock was as beautiful as the rest of him. Long, girthy, and uncut (once again thanks to the serum's healing factor). Already flushed and wet at the tip.

_How could God object to something like this? _Bucky asked himself for the hundredth time. If He truly knew how much Bucky loved this man, always had, always would, surely it couldn't be wrong.

There was nothing dirty about this - at least not in any way that Bucky didn't enjoy. He revelled in the faint smell of sweet, and arousal, and something uniquely Steve that evoked long-lost memories of their childhood and Bucky's adolescant want.

The whole act felt rather sensual and intimate. Doing this to Steve, and watching him swell from the lightest touch, felt like a religious service indeed. Maybe _that_ was why it counted as a sin. Because the church knew that even God's eternal light would pale in comparison to Steven Grant Rogers.

Bucky watched the strong muscles in Steve's chest and belly move under his ministrations in awe. When Steve widened his stance, he got bolder, licking at the skin and tasting the overflowing precome on his tongue.

It didn't taste as bad as he had feared. Just a little salty. Like oysters or something.

Steve moaned and began to stroke through Bucky's hair, pulling on the strands lightly. That was definitely a bonus. Bucky felt himself get harder in his jeans with every twinge, wishing he'd had the sense to at least unbuckle his belt so he could touch himself. If he stopped now, even for a second, Bucky was sure that he would lose his courage altogether.

He licked his lips thoroughly and opened his mouth, letting Steve push himself inside, careful not to scratch the tender flesh with too much teeth.

Steve wasn't small by any scale. Bucky had known that already but when Steve's dick was about halfway in and met the back of Bucky's throat, he couldn't help a soft gag.

"Fuck yeah," Steve sighed.

Bucky tried to pull back a little to ease up, but the hand at the back of his head tightened its hold and kept him there. He tensed and placed the palm of his flesh-hand against Steve's thigh to steady himself.

_How do women do that?_ he wondered, as he momentarily had to forgo the eye contact in favor of breathing in through his nose.

In what Bucky still thought of as 'their time', blowing a guy was something only deviants did - or whores for their paying customers. No nice girl would have been caught dead on her knees like that. Now it was considered a normal part of a healthy sexual relationship.

_Sharon probably had this down to science, knowing exactly what Steve liked and how... _

Bucky took another deep breath through his nose and swallowed around the cock in his throat. He could do this.

"Just like that," Steve said and Bucky trembled with relief at the praise. _That wasn't so hard was it?_

Finally, Steve let up and pulled back slightly, giving him the shortest break (too short to catch his breath Bucky commiserated) before he slid right back in. When Steve hit the back of Bucky's throat again with a harsh thrust, he felt a little flicker of panic.

Straining to keep his position without sinking even further down, Bucky gulped and blinked away tears that had welled up and started to spill, hoping to retain some dignity while practically drowning on Steve's dick.

He gagged and coughed wetly. A trail of spit ran down his chin. _This was fine._

Only, it wasn't.

_Breath. Don't panic. No one died giving a suck job before…_ Bucky tried to reason with himself - but to no avail.

The air was getting scarce.

His chest constricted painfully.

_It reminded him of the mask. _

He resolutely tapped Steve's thigh with a finger to get his attention, to let him know he needed to back off, right fucking now—

Steve looked down at him. When he caught the look of terror in Bucky's wide eyes, his unblinking gaze suddenly seemed cool and pitiless, far removed from the man he knew - but surely that was just Bucky's imagination running wild, combined with a dangerous lack of oxygen and an impeding melt down...

_It had to be. _

The moment seemed to drag on for an agonizingly long time which probably lasted only a few seconds in reality, before Steve finally released the back of Bucky's head, and his cock slipped out of his mouth with a wet pop.

Bucky pulled away immediately, as fast as he could, bracing himself on the floor, haunched over and coughing wetly, trying to get his damned gag reflex under control and _breath, damn it_.

"I guess, you've never done that either?" Steve asked him cooly. He sounded... Not _disappointed_ exactly but sort of unimpressed with Bucky's performance.

_Not that he could blame him_.

"Yeah…" Bucky's voice had gone raspy and subdued. "Sorry. This is... much harder than it looks..."

Steve snorted like he was amused by his words or his naivety, but his smile still had a mean quality to it that unsettled Bucky further.

"You'll learn. Don't worry."

Bucky nodded but when Steve moved like he wanted to grab for his hair again and continue fucking his throat right away, he held up a hand in protest, keeping Steve at a safe distance. "Just… Gimme' me a minute."

Steve leaned back against the tiles and sighed.

"Can't believe they never taught you how to do this," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Bucky replied absently, still sucking in great gulps of air with every breath. "What do you mean?"

"You know... " Steve watched him nervously, then he grimaced and scratched his neck. "Ah... Never mind. Are you good to go again?" he asked with a sudden fake cheerfulness that made Bucky's hair stand on end. "I could get you a glass of water if you want?"

Time ticked by slow as molasses.

It took Bucky an entire minute to process what Steve had said.

What he'd _meant_ by it.

He was too shocked to speak at first. Then, gradually, as the words fully sank in, he began to shake with rage. "Are you fucking serious right now?!"

Bucky pushed away from the floor with an alarming crack and crunch of metal against tile, and jumped to his feet quickly enough to feel lightheaded.

Steve rolled his eyes but he didn't look apologetic, and he certainly didn't pull any punches. "What, are you saying they didn't..?"

"No! Jesus Christ. That's not— Steve, what the hell?"

"What?"

"You're not seriously suggesting I should be better at giving head because you think— What? That Hydra fucking... trained me like some—"

"So they didn't?" Steve retorted.

"No! I don't know, ok? How could you— I told you, I don't know what they— Jesus Fuck!"

Bucky tried to get himself under control, taking several deep breaths.

"They did a lot of fucked up things to me but they sure as shit didn't teach me how to suck a dick!"

He frantically rubbed his face with the metal hand. It shook like a leaf. Bucky was distantly aware that a tiny piece of tile had gotten stuck under a plate when it left a superficial cut on his cheek. It didn't hurt half as much as Steve's words.

"At least not that I'd remember…" He was starting to sound hysterical.

"No, that one's pretty obvious," Steve supplied immaturely.

"You know what?! Fuck you, Steve!"

Bucky turned around and slammed the door on his way out hard enough to rip it out of its hinges. He didn't care one bit.

—

When Bucky slammed the elevator button hard enough to break the glass next to it, he didn't care either.

"Jarvis?!" Bucky barked at the A.I., giving the overhead camera the stink eye.

"Sir?"

"Take me to the roof! I want my damn cigarettes, and I want them _now_. I swear to God, if you try your healthy living bullshit with me again, I'm gonna crawl through the ceiling and rip out your fucking mainframe faster than you can cry 'Ultron'! You get me?! I'm _not _in the mood!"

"Gladly, Sir," Jarvis replied coolly. "Would you like some music to go with your threats?"

—

Like everything in this godforsaken future, smoking on a roof top was not the same as it used to be. The air smelled different, felt different. You could hardly see the stars against the bright city lights, and the smoke just didn't provide the same old comfort when you knew that it was bound to give you cancer with every drag.

_If you could get cancer that was,_ but to Bucky, it was the thought that counted.

Even worse than the unnerving unfamiliarity, each pull on the oblong cigarette reminded him of having Steve's dick in his mouth again, so he threw the whole package over the railing in a fit.

Unfortunately, there was never any privacy to be had in this nuthouse of a tower, so it didn't take long until Bucky's brooding was rudely interrupted.

"You know, last time you high-tailed it out of the place like that, Tony was in the kitchen cooking salsa with the Mark10 - naked," Clint said when he approached him hesitantly, careful to announce his presence with intentionally heavy footsteps.

He wouldn't risk startling Bucky out of his mind, simply because he _was known_ to react badly to that sort of thing (with knives and punches mostly) so in turn, Bucky wasn't going to begrudge Clint the kiddy gloves.

He was already busy begrudging other things and so he didn't acknowledge the archer right away. Instead, he continued to glare at the skyline, brooding.

"I take it your evening didn't end well?"

"No," Bucky spit the words out like venom. "No it did not."

"Nat told him not to blow it. She's gonna be so pissed," Clint said, clicking his tongue.

Bucky turned his head to look at him, assessing Clint warily. "She did what? What do you two know about anything?"

The archer shrugged. "Come on, man. We're spies. It's what we do."

"Yeah, sure. Seriously, what the hell did Steve tell you? What do you think you know?"

"_He_ didn't have to tell us jack shit. You did. It's in your eyes. The way you look at him sometimes. Like... Say there was a fire, and everything around you was burning to the ground, he'd still be the only thing you'd find worth saving. Like he's the only one who really matters to you."

Bucky swallowed hard and looked onto the city again, wishing for another cigarette to distract himself. He couldn't stomach to look his friend in the eye, not knowing if he'd ever want to associate with him after this. "So, what if I did, huh? Look at him like that, I mean? You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all, my favorite sexually confused assassin," Clint answered in a teasing tone but it came out warm and friendly instead of judging and unkind.

The knowledge alone that Clint didn't mind his 'sexual orientation' as they called it now, took a load of fear and guilt off of Bucky's mind and relaxed his tense posture instantly.

"You both get this intensity around each other when you're together," his friend went on. "Believe me, that kind of love is hard to find. It's just that you're both too stubborn to pull your act together that bothers me."

"Well... You might be right about that one," Bucky grumbled.

"So what did he do this time? Tell me. I got enough caffeine in me to raise the dead and nowhere else to be."

"He—" Bucky caught himself. Clint was one of his best friends and unconditionally supportive as it turned out, but still… No way he was gonna get into the details of how he tried and failed to give Captain America a suck job. Especially when he was going to report the whole thing back to Nat, who was still, despite her crude mannerisms, _a lady._

"We had an argument. About Hydra."

Clint nodded along like the situation was already clear to him. "What did he say?"

_I can't believe they never taught you how to do this..._

"I don't want to repeat it. It was..."

"That bad?"

"Yeah. He said something really inconsiderate. I trusted him with a part of myself, with— my history, and he just... Turned around and hurt me with it."

Clint's forehead took on a worried frown. "Seems a little out of character for him, don't you think? I mean, he's a little dense sometimes but the Steve I know? He falls over himself trying not to disrespect anyone's trauma in _any_ way. Whatever happened to that?"

"I don't know. He seems a little off lately," Bucky admitted.

"Off how?"

"Just off. I don't know. Like he's not... Who I thought he was. It scares me sometimes," Bucky ended gravely, finally meeting the archer's eyes.

Clints regarded him with a somber expression. "Did he—" His eyes drifted over the half-healed cut on Bucky's cheek. "Did he hurt you again? Come on. You can tell me. Do I have to fight Captain America for you? I mean… I'll lose for sure but believe me, I'll do it."

"No, God no. Nothing like that."

"You sure? What happened to your face then?"

"What, this?" Bucky gestured towards the cut and huffed. "That was all me, I swear. Steve had nothing to do with it. At least not in a physical way. I'm not some helpless dame who needs protection from a fella."

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't have to be a woman to get hurt. That's not how it works. Did I ever tell you— No, I don't think I did. Well… My mom. She was a dame like that. Took her a long time to admit what was going on and do something about it. Screwed up my childhood big time."

Bucky winched. "Shit. I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean it like—"

"I know you didn't. Don't worry, it's fine. But all jokes aside, we'll help you if you need us. You know that, right?" Clint stressed with a serious expression. "Day and night."

"I know. Thanks for the offer but it's not like that. Really. It's not that bad. I'm probably just overreacting."

Bucky opened his palm to pick at the tiny shard in the denting with resentment.

"Nah, I don't think you are. You know him best. If you say something's off, then—"

Suddenly, without warning, the flood lights turned on to full brightness, illuminating the entire roof. Bucky tensed and looked up.

"What the h—" Clint was instantly cut off by a loud boom, followed by the sound of glas shattering somewhere in the distance.

Bucky rolled over instinctually and covered him, making them both lie flat against the ground while the tower vibrated with the impact of an explosion.

"Jarvis?" Clint croaked.

_No answer. _The commotion had to come from somewhere on the lower levels. Bucky could feel the vibrations shake all the way through his body but there was no high rising smoke. He sat up cautiously.

"What was that?! Jarvis?! Report!"

"My security— protocols are— compromised," the A.I. stuttered, voice clipped tight in alarm and distorted by glitches.

"The tower has been— breached. I register 12— 12— unknown life— life signs— level six. Sirs— I believe— we're under attack." Shortly after that, Jarvis's voice was interrupted by static until it cut out altogether.

"Shit!" Bucky cursed and jumped to his feet, pulling the archer along with him. "Come on! We're sitting ducks out here!"

Clint's eyes were opened wide with fear. "That's Nat's floor. Jarvis, you need to inform all personell and the Iron Legion! Jarvis?"

There was no answer.

Cling turned to Bucky while he was being dragged along. "Isn't he supposed to have a backup generator?"

"I don't know, man. He's clearly—"

"Jarvis?! Do you copy?!" Clint screamed.

"He's out, Clint! Damn it! Just deal with it!" Bucky only let go of him once they had reached the shade of the canopy where they were only slightly less exposed.

He told Clint to stay put, then made a run for it in the opposite direction, all the way over to the little storage house that Pepper used to keep her Yoga equipment in. Bucky could only hope that their attackers hadn't brought a helicopter. Otherwise they would be entirely fucked out here in the open.

Thankfully, Bucky arrived at the shed undisturbed, and forcefully ripped off the lock with the metal arm to get to his hidden backup gear.

_Yoga wasn't the only possible stress relief up here._ Ever the paranoid bastard, Bucky liked to be prepared.

Frantically going through his stock, he took several small knives for close combat, 2 oxygen masks and night vision googles, the Sa. Vz. 61 Skorpion machine pistol the Winter Soldier used to store in a harness strapped to his back, an automatic M429 SAW paratrooper with 100 rounds, 2 small Glock 17s, and all the ammunition he could find.

Clint just shook his head at him when Bucky came back fully equipped exactly 2 minutes and 15 seconds later, and handed him a loaded hand gun, trying to hide his obvious relief. "Man. We're fighting bad guys smart enough to outrun Jarvis, and I don't even have my arrows with me," Clint sighed. "Why does it always happen like this?"

"Maybe Jarvis is hoping I get murdered without your help."

"What did you do to him?" Clint asked, instantly more delighted.

"Told him I'd disable him because I was in a bad way?"

"Oh man. That's rough. We're so screwed now."

Bucky snorted. "We'll manage. Don't know if you noticed but I'm an analogue kinda guy."

"I can see that. Whole tower's on lock down and somehow you still turn up stocked like Walmart."

Bucky surpressed a proud smile. "Just stay behind me, alright?"

Clint snorted. "What? Why? Who made you boss of this little operation?"

"I've got an enhanced healing factor so I'm first in line. It's that simple."

"Show off," Clint replied with a grunt but eventually he fell behind Bucky without further objections and made a solid effort to follow his lead.


End file.
